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They often don’t know about, or fail to use, an FBI database created years ago to help catch repeat offenders. She would move “a hundred miles an hour in one direction,” a colleague said. She’d worked more than 100 rape cases in her career.

Between one-fourth to two-thirds of rapists are serial attackers, studies show. But there was a clincher: the woman in Galbraith’s case had remained as focused as possible during her ordeal, memorizing details. Careful, diligent, exacting — she complemented Galbraith.

Marie — that’s her middle name, Marie — didn’t say anything. She had reported being raped in her apartment by a man who had bound and gagged her. The prosecution’s offer was this: If she met certain conditions for the next year, the charge would be dropped. on a wintry day in January 2011, Detective Stacy Galbraith approached a long, anonymous row of apartment buildings that spilled up a low hill in a Denver suburb. At around 8 a.m., she was jolted awake by a man who had jumped on her back, pinning her to the bed. A half-dozen officers and technicians were now at work. The credibility of the victim was often on trial as much as the guilt of the accused.

Sometimes she was placed in foster homes with her siblings. No one really explained why she was being moved, or what was going on. After Marie became a teenager, her years of upheaval appeared at an end. “I really loved the family and I made a lot of friends,” Marie says. Marie left Shannon’s home after a couple of weeks to move in with Peggy Cunningham, who worked as a children’s advocate at a homeless shelter and lived in Lynnwood, a smaller suburb about 15 miles north of Seattle. And I think the agency just thought, ‘She can handle it.’ So.” At first, Marie didn’t want to live with Peggy. Recognizing that Marie’s high school wasn’t a great fit — “pretty cliquey,” Peggy says — Peggy found an alternative school that was. She remained close with Shannon, who would joke that she and Peggy were raising Marie together — Shannon the fun one Through friends, Marie met Jordan Schweitzer, a high school student working at a Mc Donald’s. There was a particular photo that I really liked that she took.Before he left, he showed the student how he broke in through a sliding glass door. He worked in Westminster, some 15 miles to the northeast. Shannon, a real estate agent and longtime foster mom, had met Marie through meetings for kids with troubled pasts and had sensed a kindred spirit. She didn’t have to be pushed out the door to school. “Our personalities didn’t match at first either,” Marie says. For me it seems like people read me differently than I see myself.” Peggy, who had received a file two to three inches thick documenting Marie’s history, was surprised at how well she was coping.He suggested she put a dowel into the bottom track to keep out future intruders. Golden and Westminster were middle class bedroom towns wedged between Denver’s downtown skyscrapers and the looming Rockies. As David listened, he realized that the details of the case were unsettlingly familiar. She reports not knowing much about her biological mother, who she said would often leave her in the care of boyfriends. “I moved a lot when I was younger,” Marie says in an interview. About two of those and probably 10 or 11 foster homes.” “I was on like seven different drugs. But on the first day, a support counselor came to the school and told Marie the family had lost its foster care license. Shannon and Marie were both “kind of goofy,” Shannon says. We were a lot alike.” Despite all Marie had been through, “she wasn’t bitter,” Shannon says. But no matter her affection for Marie, Shannon knew they couldn’t keep her, because the foster child already in their home required so much care. Marie was into boys, drawing and music, be it rock, country, or Christian. Marie figures her happiest years were when she was 16 and 17, and the happiest day may have been one she spent with her best friend, another high school student who was teaching Marie the fine points of camerawork.But Hendershot right away recognized the potential in collaborating and in using every tool possible. Her department was small — a little more than 40 officers serving a town of about 20,000. “I have no qualms with asking for help,” Galbraith said. She recalled the camera that the attacker had used to take photos. “Sometimes going a hundred miles an hour, you miss some breadcrumbs,” the same colleague noted.“Two heads, three heads, four heads, sometimes are better than one, right? “Let’s do what we can do to catch him.” A week later, Galbraith, Hendershot and Aurora Detective Scott Burgess gathered around a conference table in the Westminster Police Department. It was a pink Sony digital camera — a description that fit the model stolen from the apartment of the Westminster victim. Their initial attempts to identify the attacker faltered.She read the email and her mind shot back five months, to a crisp Tuesday in August 2010.